


Dies Irae

by Desidera



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 07:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16950102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desidera/pseuds/Desidera
Summary: “Duo Maxwell. You have been summoned before the Earth Sphere Unified Nation War Tribunal on account of your activities preceding and during the Eve Wars as well as in the war against the Barton Foundation. The accused may speak up now. What do you have to say for yourself?





	Dies Irae

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first upload here, but the story was written in 2006. I stopped writing about ten years ago, but recently, and especially since there are still people active here whose stories I know and remember from back then, I decided I'd like to write again. I've got two more stories from my active writing times that I think are good enough to be uploaded here (one of them Christmas-themed), and I've got a oneshot written recently and a longer story that's still progressing. Before I upload any of those, though, I'd really like them to be beta-read, since I'm not a native speaker. So if you like my style and would be interested in beta-ing, I'd be really grateful. Old stories (but mostly other fandoms, and some are really old and not very good, just a fair warning) can be found on FFNet.  
> Thanks to my friend Mira for beta-reading this story for me.

Note:  
“dies irae” – Latin, “the day of wrath”  
Sequence in the Roman Catholic Requiem Mass until 1970, proscribing the “day of judgment”, where the last trumpet summons the souls before the throne of God to be either delivered or cast into eternal flames. 

 

Dies Irae

The room was large, actually it was more like a hall, huge and resounding. Nonetheless, everything about it was oppressing, for the atmosphere itself narrowed his vision and his senses. His eyes blinked in vain for a few heartbeats until they adjusted to the darkness. The problem was not so much that the entire room was dark, but that the darkness lingered, threatening, all around the patch of cold neon light that enclosed him. 

He did not turn as he knew that behind him there were only benches of dark wood, mostly vanishing in the shadows while a few dark silhouettes could be made out occupying them as they each kept a distance from the other. They always sat stoically unmoving and in complete silence. 

He did not try to move for he knew that there was no path leading away other than the enormous oak doors, heavily guarded by two black shapes twice his size. 

He did not look at the smaller doors in front of him either, because he knew who was going to step through them all too soon. A soft creaking sound told him they had opened, but no light fell into the room. The audience on the benches behind him rose as one, accompanied by the soft rustle of clothes and scraping feet. 

“Sit,” a calm voice commanded, the sound slicing through the silence. Three wooden tables raised in a semicircle in front of him had been waiting for the newcomers and although they too were covered in darkness, he could sense three people looking down upon him from there. The voice he had heard came from the table in the middle. There sat a black robed figure, casually reclined in their seat, darkness shrouding them from him.

“You too,” the voice addressed him. “Duo Maxwell, ex-Gundam pilot 02. Is that right?”

He did not answer, refused to sit, longing to avoid the inevitable a little longer. The unseen speaker was not deterred for a second from the usual proceedings.

“Duo Maxwell. You have been summoned before the Earth Sphere Unified Nation War Tribunal on account of your activities preceding and during the Eve wars as well as in the war against the Barton Foundation. The prosecution will further elaborate the matter. Please, read the charges.”

With a soft rolling motion of the wrist, a gloved hand indicated permission to speak to the right hand table. There was the sound of a chair scraping the floor as it was pushed back. The voice of the prosecutor seemed oddly familiar but it was a familiarity that held no comfort.  
“Duo Maxwell, adopted son of Father Maxwell and Sister Helen, two honourable citizens of the L2 colony, is hereby accused of the slaughter of thousands of uncounted victims.  
Accepting orders from a scientist known as Professor G he took part in Operation Meteor as it was designed by the group of engineers G belonged to. After his arrival on earth his first missions resulted in deaths at a mobile suit factory, among the Earth Alliance naval fleet and at the New Edwards base. Countless fights against OZ multiplied the death count to a number that makes it impossible for the prosecution to state all the names of those murdered. The pile of deaths finally culminated in the Eve wars and, only a short time later, the fight against the Barton Foundation. The prosecution is under the impression that, no matter which motives or reasons the accused pilot acted upon, justice has to be served.”

The silence weighed heavily on the room, as if the accusation was taking time to sink in, soaking the audience with indignation and bloodlust. Although he could not see a single face, hostility closed in on him like a living creature. 

Again the black-robed judge raised his voice. “The accused may speak up now. What do you have to say for yourself, Duo Maxwell?”

He had no clue as to what he was going to say, and yet he knew he had to say something, anything. But when he opened his mouth to speak, something cold and bumpy was slung around his neck from behind and he recognised the hard metal links of a chain pressing into his sensitive throat. The pressure rendered him unable to speak, unable to cry out, made him gasp for air as his hands came up to fight the restraint only to find it even tighter and his muscles refusing to comply. 

On the verge of unconsciousness he sank to his knees. 

*

“Please, drop me off right in front of that building at the corner. I will walk from there.”

Security mechanisms were never completely forgotten, no matter how much time had passed since the war. Heero Yuy grabbed the bag he had placed between his feet as the cab driver parked his car. 

“Keep the change.” It was more like an instruction than a polite offer but the man behind the wheel hardly cared. Heero did not look back as he rounded the corner, appearing casual but never quite managing to allow his mind to relax in the presence of so many strangers. 

Duo’s flat was on the fifth floor but Heero did not bother with the elevator. As he walked up the broad staircase, he took in the atmosphere of the building, the security exits, the view from the small windows on every floor he passed.  
Finally he rang the bell next to his friend’s door and heard his answering steps inside.  
A moment later the door was pushed open and he was greeted by the grinning face of Duo Maxwell. 

“Hey, buddy!” he called and opened the door wide to allow Heero to step inside. “Good to see you.” 

“You too,” Heero answered levelly, as his body rediscovered the ease of talking to his energetic friend yet once more. He put down his bag and stepped out of his trainers.  
“Just leave your stuff here.” Duo had already slipped into the living room and Heero followed. 

The living room was Duo’s world, his very own creation. A large black leather sofa caught the visitor’s eye as it stood invitingly in the middle of the room. “Fake leather,” Duo had explained to him on his first visit, “’cause I always get it stained with all kinds of food and drinks when I watch the telly.” True to his words the large TV stood in front of the sofa, promising entertainment. Cushions matched the curtains. They were dark red, like the color of freshly spilled blood. The carpet was black, as were the furniture and the armchair next to the sofa. The walls, though, were not simply coloured but painted with red bricks that were adorned with graffiti. Here Shinigami felt at home. 

“Make yourself at home, Heero. What can I get you for a drink?”

Carefully, Heero let himself sink into the black sofa cushions, finding them surprisingly soft and noticing the red blanket rolled up in one corner of the sofa, probably used to warm Duo during nightly TV sessions. 

“Tea, please,” he called towards the kitchen where Duo already had vanished into. 

As his friend prepared his beverage, Heero surveyed the room, smiled or frowned at various items lying around. Yes, Duo definitely felt at home here, in his personal chaos. Heero had seen worse, though. Trowa and Quatre, for example, liked their own creative mess and only cleaned when one of their various pets produced items taken from their bedroom in front of guests. 

“Here you go.” Duo walked towards him with a steaming teapot and two porcelain cups, both black with different Japanese kanji painted in red upon them. They had been Heero’s presents to Duo when he had moved in and invited all his friends over for the housewarming party. 

“Thank you.” Carefully Heero poured them both a cup then leaned back into the sofa, sipping quietly and comfortably. He had personally taught Duo good taste in Japanese and Chinese tea, one of the reasons why he had given him this present. 

“So you are going to spend a few days here for that Preventers meeting?” Duo wanted to know, lifting his own cup to his lips.

Heero nodded. “Three nights, if you don’t mind.” He looked up at his friend. “Thanks for housing me at yours. I hope I will not get in your way.”

“Ahh, no problem, buddy. I know you hate hotel rooms. I don’t like them either, they seem so sterile and they keep you vigilant at night because you don’t trust that artificial peace. And you most certainly won’t get in my way, me and Hilde will continue doing our business just fine, don’t you mind that. We’ll both be away during daytime, though, so I can’t even give you a sightseeing tour. You probably remember from last time anyway. This area doesn’t change much. Though my left door neighbour could tell you a different story, she’s up to date to any kind of gossip flying around and by noon tomorrow you can be certain that everyone in the building knows you’re here, trust me. She’s lurking at her door, y’know?”

Duo interrupted his flow of words for a quick wink and a sip of tea, and Heero shook his head to hide a smile as his own cup warmed his hands. 

“You must be tired, though,” Duo stated as he sat his cup down. “Jetlag must be a bitch after twelve hours flying, right? And, knowing you, you haven’t slept during the last twenty-four hours either, preparing everything for this extremely serious and important meeting.” He grinned and Heero rolled his eyes in spite of the truth in those words. 

“If you just lift your respective backside a bit, I’ll get your bed ready here on the couch. It’s the best place to be roused from sleep early, meaning when I stumble on my way to the bathroom. If you ever knew the terror of being late, you would appreciate that.”

This time Heero smirked. 

The other boy was fetching blanket and pillow for Heero, moving a few cushions to open the sofa and provide some more space for Heero to sleep upon. “Here, that will do,” he then concluded, stepping back with a satisfied expression. “You can go to sleep now whenever you like.”

Heero contemplated the offer. “I am tired,” he said, “but I don’t have to sleep right away.” Judging the situation he studied Duo and noticed how, upon closer inspection, his eyes were underlined with dark circles and looked slightly dull.  
“You should go to sleep,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You are tired.”

Duo gave him a lopsided grin. “Ah, I don’t sleep too much lately. Got better things to do.”

*

“Duo Maxwell. You have been summoned before the Earth Sphere Unified Nation War Tribunal on account of your activities preceding and during the Eve wars as well as in the war against the Barton Foundation. The prosecution will further elaborate the matter. Please, read the charges.”

His feet felt icy cold. His knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the chair that had been waiting for him ever since he had first been taken to the court room. As if there was still a war going on where no one had the right to give in to despair, he took deep calming breaths as he listened to the accusation. Already he could recite it by heart. 

It was a misunderstanding. He had to make them see. He had to speak up in his defence this time, had to avoid the suffocating chains that detained him. Imperceptibly, even as he listened to the prosecutor, his muscles tensed. All his senses were alert. His mind was completely focussed on the words, awaiting the right moment, anticipating the movement he planned to perform. 

“…justice has to be served.” Absolute silence, freezing hostility.

“The accused may speak up now. What do you have to say for yourself, Duo Maxwell?”

Now. The self-issued order ran through his body like lightning. He ducked. Above and behind himself he could hear the clinking of metal links as the chain missed its goal. Without a second’s hesitation he shot forward on hands and feet, a panther’s leap, away from the chain. 

He felt as if he had been pushed into a sea of snakes. The audience’s hissing and whispering surrounded him with the same omnipotence that the silence had induced before.  
He shook his head wildly to clear his mind of the all-encompassing sound. This time he would not pass up his chance. 

“Your Honour!” he shouted, voice drowning out the audience. “Hear me out! It is true that I killed but…”

“It is true!” the voice of the prosecutor cut into his speech, dark and foreboding. “He has admitted to his crimes.”

“Please!” he cried, desperately. “Just listen to me, I have to explain! I do not deny it, but you do not know what it was like! You don’t know why I did it! Can’t you see? The people I killed weren’t innocents. They were soldiers, like me, it was a question of killing or getting yourself killed. I fought for peace! I do feel remorse for every innocent life I took in the process, but without this fight we would not have achieved peace today. Would you rather have OZ be your leader?”

The hissing and whispering had stopped, the silence had returned. He felt utterly and completely lost between hope and total despair as he panted softly from the exertion of shouting. 

“That’s all fine, Duo Maxwell,” the judge finally spoke, as calm as before. “But do you think it was right for you to kill them? Were you given this right? Who gave it to you? A crazy scientist? The God of Death you worship? Or rather your own frustration about the cruelty of the world and the death of your loved ones? Can anyone take the right to kill because it is part of a mission? And if we let one person get away with it, what do you think would happen to the others, to their beliefs in good and evil? No, Duo Maxwell, just like the prosecutor mentioned, your reasons and motives are irrelevant in this.”

His hands shook and his lips moved in a silent plea as he stared up at the judge. Behind him, the chain clinked softly. Blindly he turned and fought but he could as well have kicked and punched a stone, he did not stand a chance. 

*

“Just look at that! It’s completely unrealistic. He’d be freezing by now. It’s just impossible to climb out of a flying plane on a rope and survive. Forget the temperatures, you wouldn’t be able to hold on for a second. Really, such a stupid…”

“Do you want me to change channels?”

Duo paused in his rant, giving Heero a surprised look. “Of course I don’t want to change channels. What’s the point in making fun of a movie when you change channels? Are you annoyed? Then I’ll stop.”

Heero snorted softly. “No it’s alright. I have to admit the movie is terrible.” With this he launched Duo into another full-length rant. Leaning back comfortably, his mind began to wander as he kept his eyes on the movie and shut his ears off to his friend’s complaints. Heero could not bring himself to send Duo away so he could sleep. He was a little tired and would have been comfortable with calling it a day but he was not blind. He had well noticed that Duo avoided that moment.

When he had returned from the first part of the meeting, mentally exhausted as he always found himself in the tight confines of political talk that seemingly lead to nowhere, Duo had already been there. He had done grocery shopping and had been slicing vegetables in the kitchen. Surprisingly enough, he had managed to prepare a quite enjoyable meal. Judging by what Heero remembered from the war, Duo had to have improved a lot. 

They had eaten and then they had talked for about two hours about the day’s events, their jobs, their lives, their colleagues, Trowa and Quatre, Wufei and Sally, Relena’s new peace programs, Hilde’s frustration with a few of her clients, in short, anything and everything. As usual, it had been mostly Duo talking. Heero did not mind, he was genuinely interested in his friend’s life and did not have a problem with Duo asking for details about his life either. But when their conversation had lasted for more than an hour, he had noticed that something was different and that almost every time it was nearing an end, Duo would introduce another topic to talk about. 

Usually, Heero would have let it go. There was nothing to be worried about. Duo was an ex-Gundam pilot, he knew how to manage life on his own, he had been trained to be self-sufficient. This time, though, Heero could detect a connection to what he had experienced in the morning. 

It had not been anything special. About an hour before they both had been supposed to get up, he had been roused from sleep by muffled noises from Duo’s room. He had refrained from intruding on his friend’s privacy but he had not been able to fall asleep again either. In his sleep Duo appeared to be talking. His voice was not loud as usual, but hushed, his speech fast, nervous. One particular choking sound, had had him contemplating to check up on Duo after all, but soon enough the noises had faded. 

But now Duo was avoiding sleep at all costs and Heero found himself wondering if this was the reason for his friend’s dark circled eyes. 

“Duo,” he interrupted the other’s flow of words, deciding to be very direct about this. “Have you been having nightmares?”

Abruptly, Duo fell silent, eyes wide. “Uh, what gives you the idea?”, he asked noncommittally. 

“I heard you,” Heero replied quietly and noticed his friend swallowing the flippant answer that had been on the tip of his tongue. Duo Maxwell would run and hide, as long as he gave him the chance, but he was not going to lie. 

Duo shifted his gaze to the TV and leaned back into the sofa. Heero, refusing to be ignored, picked up the remote and mentally said his goodbyes to the terrible action flick. When Duo found himself without a way to avoid Heero’s question, he ran his hand through his bangs and continued staring at the blank screen as he spoke up quietly.

“I’ve been having this really strange, really vivid nightmare. It kinda…bothers me a lot more than the usual ones. When I wake up I sometimes think…the chain is still around my neck, you know. And I try to grab it with both hands and I’m grabbing nothing but air. And then I look up and expect them to sit there before me. The Earth Sphere Unified Nation War Tribunal, that’s what they call themselves…But instead of the prosecutor there’s my desk and instead of the black-robed judge there’s just the door leading outside.  
And yet…every night I forget. They return and I forget. Sometimes…,” he turned his head to look at Heero, a slightly haunted look to his eyes, “…I could swear they are real.”

Heero quietly listened to his partner’s jumbled thoughts without interrupting him. He knew about nightmares that followed you for a while, but they had never left him quite this flustered. Something that could shock Duo so much had to be special. He did not have to ask more, the reason why a war tribunal would seek out a former Gundam pilot was very obvious. 

“Then try reminding yourself. Take the knowledge with you, into the dream and tell them they are not real. See what they do if you tell them.” Heero looked into Duo’s hopeful eyes and decided a little more information could not hurt. 

“It always works for me,” he added. 

*

“The accused may speak up now. What do you have to say for yourself, Duo Maxwell?”

Things had been different from the beginning. He could not put his finger on the changes, though. The only noticeable difference was his position a good two metres away from his chair, exactly the place he had escaped to the last time. Somehow he knew that the chains would not bother him this time, even though he still felt their presence, a little further away. 

He knew that this time he would not have to fight for his right to speak. So he answered freely, asserting himself against the hostility around him. His voice was calm, his arms crossed in front of his chest, hiding any nervousness he might be feeling.

“I owe you no explanation. This is just a dream. You are just a figment of my imagination. You have no power.”

Silence followed his declaration. There was no change in atmosphere, it was as if every form of life down to the micro-organisms in the room had paused in existence and he felt so utterly alone it pressed on his senses from all sides. He felt desperate for one single human soul by his side, be they as powerless as a small child, as long as it allowed him to feel certain of a fellow heartbeat close. 

After endless moments the count of which was lost in the silence, the judge spoke. 

“Well. If that is what you think. Turn around, walk out the door, never give another thought to us. No one can stop you, Duo Maxwell. We have no power.”

His heartbeat sped up in his chest. Was it true? Was it a lie? What would happen if he tried? But what would happen if he did not? No, he was lost if he refused to try. He had to try.  
Experimentally, he attempted to lift one of his feet. 

It was chained to the floor so tightly he could hardly move it a few centimetres. 

He gasped. Automatically, he tried to move his other foot to regain his full balance. It was restrained as well. 

Frantically he meant to turn around and look for his captor but was prevented by a powerful push to his back that knocked him off his feet. Pain shot through him as his knees and arms connected ruggedly with the ground.

“Can you feel it yet, Duo Maxwell?” he heard the judge’s voice above him. “Can you feel the reality of your situation?”

Blind wrath invaded his body like a drug and he fought to scramble to his knees again only to find his hands being pulled behind his back and tied securely there.  
“No!” His desperate shout was wrenched from his lips as he writhed in vain to escape. “It’s not possible! No!”

Then the familiar chain wrapped around his neck. “NO!” he screamed with his last breath, fighting helplessly. Something hard hit his back and he was pushed onto the floor again as the chain cut even more into his air supply. Pain clouded his senses as his head connected with hard stone and he dimly tasted blood on his tongue.

*

He was chocking as if he was being suffocated when Heero entered the room. His face was smeared with blood, he was tossing in his bed like a possessed man. 

“Duo!” Heero shouted, kneeling next to his friend and shaking him. Abruptly, with a pained wail, Duo shot up, gasping a few more times, sucking in deep breaths of air. At the same time his hands went up to his neck, undoubtedly trying to rid himself of the chain he had to have felt resting there mere moments ago, as he had told him in the evening. 

“No….no…no….,” he chanted almost to himself. “I won’t….I’m not….Please don’t….”

“Duo!” Heero tried again, but he did not make the mistake to try and grab his friend. His voice was loud enough to draw Duo’s attention to him.

“Heero…I’m bleeding…what did they do? Where am I? He chocked me, I think I was unconscious, Heero…” 

“It’s alright, Duo.” Heero spoke slowly, softer than before, reaching out with only one hand to touch Duo’s arm, trying not to notice how his friend shied away from the touch. “You are in your own bed. I think you hit your nose on the headboard. It was a nightmare.”

Duo was completely silent, breathing hard for a few infinite moments then his body slumped, slowly, exhaustedly. Heero stood up and left the room. He did not close the door so Duo could feel assured he would return. In the bathroom he gathered a few auxiliary means to treat his friend’s nose. 

When he came back Duo had not moved. He twitched softly when Heero touched his nose with the cool washcloth then obediently tilted his head back a fraction. 

“It seems, my advice did not help,” Heero muttered quietly as he wiped the blood off the other’s face. Duo shook his head. “It was worse this time. He told me I could just walk out, and when I tried to, I was bound. I couldn’t do a single thing. Someone slammed me into the floor. I bled. He was chocking me. And the entire time I felt…so utterly alone.”  
“It is another proof of this trial being just a dream,” Heero said, trying to make his voice sound convincing. “Normally, at court, you should have an advocate. You should not be treated that way. Remind yourself how wrong it is. Do you even know the punishment they intend for you? Remind yourself how different it is from a real trial.”

Again, Duo shook his head, dismissing the idea. He still refused to look directly at Heero although he had lowered his head as the bleeding subsided. “It isn’t going to work, Heero. As long as they prove to me how they are real, it is not going to work.”

“Then take someone with you. Have one of us be there with you. We were all Gundam pilots, you should not have to be the only one in that court room. If they seek to punish you they have to get all of us. We went through the war together.”

Duo’s shoulders twitched. His mouth pulled into a thin smile and he turned to face Heero. “Thanks, buddy,” he said earnestly. “It seems I am not a lucid dreamer, after all.”

*

“What do you have to say for yourself, Duo Maxwell?”

He stood alone, for the moment a save distance from where he knew the aggressor with the chains to be waiting for him, hidden somewhere in the dark. The hostility was almost familiar by now, he allowed himself to float above it. 

“I’m not going to say a single word. I want to see my lawyer first.” His confidence was faked at best but at least he was trying. The judge did not make him wait this time.  
“Well, if you think you deserve one.” 

The gloved hand appeared within the darkness. This time it flicked towards the left. Immediately the lights above the left hand table went on.  
A small, delicately shaped person sat at the table, head buried in their hands supported by the elbows resting on the table, dark bangs falling over face and hands, black robes slipping away a little to expose the slender arms covered with tiny scars. Then the person lifted their head.

“Hilde!”

He started and took a step towards the table. “Hilde, what are you doing here? You’re my lawyer? Why? What happened?”

She spoke softly, avoiding his eyes. “Everyone has to fulfil the role intended for them. Everyone has to play their part. I am playing mine. You can’t be left alone before the law, so here I am.”

“Hilde,” he whispered. “I am really glad to see you. Do you think you can help me? No one here listens to me.”

Like a puppet on a string she stood, head still bowed as if some unseen force was holding it in the submissive position, stiff, every small movement forced. “Your Honour, may I defend my client’s position? There have definitely been misunderstandings concerning…”

The black-gloved hand, palm raised rigidly towards her, stopped her mid-sentence. There was a second’s wait during which he could almost feel the metal links of the chain stroking the back of his neck, and a cold shiver ran down his spine. 

“The motion has been defeated.”

“Hey!” he screamed, forgetting his position in the defence of a friend. “You didn’t even give her a chance to talk! Why wouldn’t you let her say what she intended to say?”

The judge neither moved nor spoke. Instead the chair of the prosecutor was pushed back soundly and the sharp voice penetrated the silence. “The prosecution has been informed that the solicitor may be biased concerning this particular case. She may be influenced in her judgment by her personal relation to the accused. It would not serve justice to accept her petition.”

“And you!” he screamed, addressing the prosecutor, “You talk about justice but you won’t even give me a chance to talk! Where is the justice in that? Whenever I try to say something you have me being chocked by those chains! You don’t even know me! You don’t know my story! You don’t know what happened to me and the other four pilots who went to earth for that mission. You don’t know what we went through, you don’t know what we were forced to do, you don’t know why, you don’t know the tricks and snares, you don’t….”

All of a sudden he was shocked into complete silence. At a small flick of the judge’s hand the lights above the right hand table had been switched on. In the spotlight there stood a boy no older than him, clothed in white robes instead of black. In contrast his eyes were darker than the night, narrowed to small slits, black hair pulled into a tight plait at the back of his head. He stood proudly, but just as stiffly as the solicitor, like a marionette. 

“Wufei….”

“You think I do not know, Maxwell? Oh, I know everything. You think I did not have to go through this trial myself? But justice has to be served – and we all have to play our parts. No one can escape. There is no running and hiding this time, Maxwell.”

“But Wufei!” he shouted desperately, fists clenched and shaking hard, “You know we did it because we had to, don’t you? Just like the other three.”

“Yes. But now we have to pay. All of us.” The prosecutor turned his head towards the door and his own eyes followed. What he saw wrenched a scream from his throat.  
“No! You bastards!”

Through the door, out of a dark corridor, the two enormous wardens led a slender boy. He stumbled as he went, his blonde hair fell into his face but the bruises there were all too visible. His breathing was laboured and when one of the men gave him a rough push forward, he fell to his knees with a suppressed sound of pain.

The wardens stepped in front of the boy as he ran towards him. His fists connected with their bodies but they were hard as stone, it felt as if he were punching a wall.  
“No!” he screamed again and again. “No, not Quatre! Not him, he does not deserve this! Take me instead!” 

Behind him, the chains clinked. Ready for the fight he turned to face the aggressor, but stopped in his tracks as if suddenly struck by lightning.

“T..Trowa?”

The chain clinked. The aggressor’s eyes were empty, one of them partially hidden behind his brown bangs. “We all have to play our parts,” the boy in front of him whispered. Then he received a punch to his stomach and sank to the ground with a moan. 

*

Heero had stepped into his friend’s room as soon as the first screams could be heard. To his dismay no amount of shaking and slapping could wake Duo who was thrashing on the bed. The words uttered between inarticulate screams mostly filled him in on the contents of Duo’s nightmare and the turn it had taken this time. Cursing himself for his advice and fault in envisioning how it would change the dream, he tried to hold Duo down to keep him from hurting himself in his sleep. Unfortunately that plan backfired as well. As Duo bucked within his grip at the same time as he tried to catch a wildly flying fist, his elbow was rammed into Duo’s stomach unchecked. With a moan of pain, the other boy shot up.

Immediately, Heero pushed his guilt at having hurt his friend to the back of his mind. More pressing matters had to be approached first. 

“Duo!” he called, as gently as possible, still holding Duo’s arms but capturing his wide, disoriented eyes in a deep stare. “It is over. Come back.”

For a few seconds more the other’s eyes remained unseeing as they sat in silence, both breathing hard from their fight with the nightmare. Finally the haze in Duo’s eyes cleared and he whimpered softly, falling limply forward into Heero’s body. Fighting a trained urge to push him away, Heero folded his arms around his back as he had seen Relena do a few times, mostly with him on the receiving end. “It is over,” he repeated, at a loss for words.

Duo did not say anything but slowly his breathing calmed to a normal pace and his body regained some of its usual strength and energy in Heero’s embrace. Nonetheless they remained in this position for a long moment, both afraid of what they would have to do or say once the security of the embrace would end. 

Finally Heero pulled away, gently but without hesitation. Duo turned away slightly and lowered his head. His voice was harsh and disillusioned. “I never thought they would betray me so,” he whispered. 

“They did not,” Heero replied. “They are not the people you know. They come from inside you.”

“What do you mean?” Duo wanted to know, glancing at him. 

Heero thought for a moment, trying to verbalise his thoughts. “They are your own voices, Duo. The voices that speak within you. The voices you dare not listen to during daytime.”

“You mean…,” Duo reflected slowly, obviously putting the pieces of Heero’s loosely expressed opinion together,  
“…that my subconscious conjures up my friends to impersonate my hidden guilt?” He shook his head and gave a mirthless laugh. “You sound crazy, Yuy, like a real psychiatrist. But you might be right about this.”

“Have you ever seen the judge’s face?” Heero wanted to know, ignoring his partner’s comment. “I guess you have not,” he continued when Duo did not answer. “I can tell you what he looks like. He has a long braid and violet eyes. You are judging yourself, Duo. For all your fears and emotions your brain has found an impersonator.”

“So they are not real…,” Duo whispered to himself. Then he closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands. “What’s happening to me, Heero?” he asked softly. “I’m going crazy, aren’t I?”

A hidden memory tugged softly on Heero’s mind, the memory of moments similar to this. He reached for Duo’s arms and pulled them away from his face. 

“There was a time,” he said, “when I was guilty of a terrible deed. I am still.” Duo looked up at those words and Heero continued, slightly reassured. “Like you I was seeking judgment…but I was taught that judgment cannot be given the way we want it to. I cannot explain. You have to find out for yourself, we all have to learn different lessons in life. But I am willing to help.”

“You are?” Duo wondered. Then he averted his eyes and replied harshly, “I guess I need it now. I guess I have become dependent.”

Impatiently, Heero placed his hand on Duo’s cheek and pulled his head back so he had to face him. “Friendship is not dependence,” he said.

For a moment, Duo seemed shocked then he smiled softly and lowered his head again, running his hand over his eyes. “You are leaving today, aren’t you?” he murmured quietly. Heero looked away. He had forgotten. For a few seconds, he hesitated, weighing his options. Then his mind was made up. “No,” he replied.

Duo’s eyes were fixed directly at him but he refused to meet them. “You…would stay another night?” his friend said softly. When he didn’t answer, Duo’s face changed into a mocking replica of the jester’s smile he used so often. “Well, it’s you or a knife. I guess I need you to prevent me from doing something foolish.”

“Baka,” Heero answered quietly. “I will stay. But we will make this day worthwhile.”

*  
At precisely 11:30 am local time the shuttle landed gently on the space port of the Sanq Kingdom. Heero and Duo left with the other L2 passengers, both of them carrying large bouquets of flowers. It was their only luggage as they planned to return in the evening. While the other passengers got their suitcases, they bought a ticket for air transport to the centre of the capital. It took them one more hour to finally get to their destination. They did not speak the entire time.  
The war memorial had been built shortly after the Eve Wars, a proud star with five cusps lying horizontal to the ground. Each of the cusps bore a colony, but in the middle there was the earth.  
The entire memorial had been built from gundanium alloy, molten spare parts of former mobile suits. Then, during the Mariemaia incident, the memorial had been destroyed by a clever saboteur who had managed to rip off all five colonies and the earth, dropping them all around the bare star on the ground and covering the star itself with artistic graffiti to represent the frustration of those seeking peace. After the defeat of the Barton foundation, the graffiti had been removed and the memorial rebuilt slightly differently. By magnetic force the colonies were now travelling around the star enclosed in a large globe of dark blue glass representing the universe. In the middle the earth sat again, now spinning slowly around itself. 

Before the memorial, Duo and Heero stopped. One after the other Duo pulled the flowers out of the bouquet and put them beneath the memorial. To each of them he whispered the name of a battle, sometimes the name of a dead person, and a few words of apology. Heero stood behind him holding the remaining flowers in silence, waiting, mentally saying his own apologies, even though he had done this before. 

Finally, Duo stood, head bowed, resting in silence for a few more minutes. “I’m ready,” he then told his friend. Together they left the memorial and beneath it a bed of flowers. 

*

The cathedral was huge, the tip of the slender bell tower seemed to almost be touching the clouds. The style was AC-neo-Gothic, and, typical of this architectural movement, the entire building was kept in white. It had been built after the war as well, when the world had been in dire need of peace symbols. Rosettes and windows of colourful glass reflected the sunlight, played with it and painted rainbows onto the earth.

“Why are we here, Heero?” Duo mumbled, looking up at the bell tower in amazement. 

“It is a church, is it not?” Heero shrugged and hoped his intuition had not lead him wrong. “You said you grew up in a church. As I recall your priests preach the forgiveness of God upon confession to one of them. So why don’t you go in there and look for a priest you can confess to?”

“I never believed in the God Father Maxwell told me about,” Duo said softly as he continued to stare at the cathedral. “How should this help me?”

“You might be interested in what this God has to say, nonetheless. There has to be a reason the man you grew up with believed in Him.”

Heero was relieved when Duo nodded. “Are you coming in too?” he asked with a slightly worried look on his face. “I’ve never done this before.”  
Instead of replying Heero started walking towards the entrance and Duo fell into step beside him. 

Inside, true to the ancient Gothic style, the cathedral was dark, bringing out the colours of the rosettes and windows, covering the statues in shadow. Duo and Heero went to the left, between high pillars separating the central aisle from the side aisle.  
Occasionally, they would stop when a particular glass window or marble statue captured their attention. Silently, Duo pointed towards an angel whose wings had taken black colour due to the soot of large candles beneath and beside him. “Shinigami,” he mouthed. 

When he wanted to go on, Heero grabbed his sleeve and pointed right behind the black-winged angel. “The confessional,” he whispered. “I will wait here.”  
Duo nodded and took a deep breath before he walked towards the confessional. An old woman was stepping out, holding the door open for him and he thanked her with a nervous smile and a soft inclination of his head. 

The priest was waiting inside, drawing the sign of the cross over his forehead, lips and chest and speaking the accompanying words. Duo remained silent until the priest had finished, kneeling down and folding his hands as he had seen people do at the Maxwell church. “Father,” he said quietly, “I’ve never done this before, but there are things I need to get off my mind. They are horrible…It’s hard to tell.”

“It is alright, my son,” the priest said, “I promise neither me nor God will turn our backs on you. We will hear you, whatever it is you have to say.”

Duo nodded slowly. “Alright. I was a soldier in the war…no, I was an assassin. A terrorist for the colonies. There is so much blood on my hands…”

As Duo began to list the battles he had fought and the approximate death toll they had taken, the priest listened quietly, now and then encouraging him with a nod. Finally, Duo finished with a shudder. It was hard, remembering all those fights now for the second time today. 

“Those are grave sins, my son,” the priest said, “but you know it and you suffer because of your guilt. God does not want you to suffer endlessly, therefore He has given you this option – and you have come to Him. There is no way to bring back the dead. But there are ways to atone for a part of what you have done. There are still large numbers of war orphans, aren’t there? They need help. They depend on people who take them in, see to their needs and get them sufficient education. Don’t you think they might need your help too?”

Duo was silent but his eyes were wide and filled with life all of a sudden as he looked at the priest. “Yes, Father,” he finally whispered. 

“And so I absolve you of your sins,” the priest answered in his melodious ceremonial voice, “in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. God has forgiven you your sins, you may now go in peace.”

“But how can God just forgive me?!” Duo cried, almost jumping up before he remembered the confessional was too small for that kind of action. 

“Because He loves you as a father loves a child. He does not want to punish you, He wants to show you the right way. Now go and find your peace of mind. Remember the advice God gives. Let Him lead you.” The priest smiled and Duo returned the smile, still a little stunned. 

Beside the black-winged angel, Heero waited for him, leaned against the wall, watching the people in the cathedral, listening to the soft chanting of a few priests who stood at the altar as they performed some kind of ritual. 

Heero studied Duo’s face and was surprised at the liveliness he had missed in those eyes for the last two days. He nodded, satisfied, and together they left the cathedral and its peaceful atmosphere. 

It was evening when they arrived on L2 and when Duo unlocked the door to his flat, the sun was already setting behind the artificial colony clouds. He made tea for the both of them but Heero insisted they should cook together and so they had a fairly large dinner consisting of chicken and rice with sauce and salad. Nonetheless, Duo did not eat much and they had to save most of the meal for the next day. After dinner they sat next to each other on the couch, watching a pointless comedy show, but then Heero decided it would not do to avoid going to sleep any longer. Duo paled a little but he agreed and went to the bathroom. 

When he was done and walked into his room clothed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, Heero was already sitting there, his laptop opened on the desk, booting up one of the Preventers’ research programs. Duo stopped in his tracks. “You…are going to stay awake?” he asked softly. 

Heero nodded. “Just sleep. I will sit here and work.”

With a smile on his lips, Duo crawled into bed and pulled the covers over his body. The room fell silent but for the clacking of keys. 

“My eternal lullaby…,” Duo murmured, staring at the ceiling. Heero smiled as he continued typing. It had been like this often during the war. Heero had always taken the first watch and Duo had fallen asleep to the sounds of his fingers dancing on the keys as he worked. 

“Heero?” he heard his partner’s voice from the bed.  
He turned around and saw Duo crawling out of the bed again and padding towards him, barefooted.  
“I forgot to say this,” Duo mumbled and leaned down close to him, supporting his hands on the armrests of Heero’s chair. “Thank you,” he whispered softly, and touched Heero’s cheek briefly with his lips. Then he turned around and walked back to the bed. 

“Good night,” he called without looking back. 

“Good night,” Heero replied quietly, watching him.

*

It was cold all around him. And it was dark. He was lying on a floor of hard stone. Somehow everything felt familiar as if he had experienced this before. 

Slowly, feeling infinitely exhausted, he raised himself up on his arms and found a wall in the darkness. His aching body refused to cooperate further so he rested his back against the wall, glancing around himself.

He was not stupid, after all he had been a soldier. The situation was all too familiar. He was caught, and well-caught too, surrounded by metal and stone with nothing that could help him break out.  
Cursing, he lowered his head. So they had finally got him. So, like everyone else, he was going to play the role they had devised for him, facing his punishment. 

He folded his arms around his chest to try and protect himself from the cold, but he was shivering nonetheless. How long would they make him wait? What were they planning to do with him? Had he already fulfilled his role? Was it time for the execution now?

All of a sudden the door slid open and he had to close his eyes against the blinding light from outside. When he opened them again he saw a familiar dark silhouette standing in the door, gun pointing directly at him. The executioner had come. And there was no mistaking his identity.

He struggled to rise to his feet, supported by the wall behind him. “Shoot, Heero,” he said in a voice strained with exertion. “I’m ready. This is what I deserve.”  
Overcome with a wonderful hazy tiredness, he closed his eyes. 

There was the clinking sound of metal hitting stone. Looking at the floor in surprise he saw the gun that had been thrown at his feet. 

“I will not kill you,” Heero said, taking slow steps towards him. “In this life no one has the right to judge over living and dying. Taking a life in order to redeem another is pointless. Await your judgment the day you follow the dead and meet with them again. Until then use your time well. You cannot escape your life’s burden that easily.”

Heero stood directly before him. The tiredness fell from his body, was replaced with warmth. As if the sun was rising outside, the light was slowly creeping into the room. In the beams of sunlight, Heero was luminous, looked like a marble statue. 

“Go now,” he said and pushed him back against the wall. It gave out under the impact and he fell. 

*

Duo gasped softly in his sleep. Immediately Heero abandoned his laptop and turned towards the bed. 

Duo had sat up and blinked softly into the night. He saw Heero approaching, much like the shadow in his dream and looked at him in childlike wonder. Heero sat down next to him, watching his face and waiting patiently.

Carefully, Duo lifted his hand and brushed Heero’s cheek as if to make sure he was real. When it slipped away from Heero’s face he examined it with surprise.  
“You didn’t shoot me,” he said softly. 

For a moment, Heero was silent, searching Duo’s eyes then he shook his head. “No, I didn’t,” he answered. 

With a small sigh, Duo leaned towards him, fell into him, rested his face on his shoulder. Heero lifted one of his hands and ran it down his partner’s back. For a few minutes he gently caressed Duo’s back and waited until Duo’s arms also found their way around his waist. Then he pressed a small kiss into Duo’s hair and pulled away. 

“Sleep untroubled now,” he said softly. 

Duo’s eyes were already closed. 

 

Finis


End file.
